


The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

by ar_tris_t (orphan_account)



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Gen, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, x Reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-09 02:21:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10401585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ar_tris_t
Summary: **On hiatus**You're a daughter of Apollo, gifted with the pen, or in your specific case, a keyboard, but nonetheless, you're a killer author.  Nobody knows that you are actually just a sixteen year old girl just trying to survive until your next meal.Enter the son of Posiedon, Percy Jackson, and your messed up life gets even crazier.





	1. Congratulations, You're Still Alive!

        You'd think I'd be used to being hunted down by crazed, cannibal giants, or scary, snake-legged ladies, but I've been more wrong before.  Take that time in third grade.  I thought that Suzie was a nice girl, but it turned out she just wanted my Oreos.  Or in fifth grade, when I thought that Evan had a crush on me, and it turned out that he just wanted my homework answers.  And again, three years ago, when I thought that maybe, eigth grade would be a piece of cake?  It turned out that I was famous online for my fanfiction, but I was also famous in real life, and mythical monsters that were supposed to be stories turned up during a pep rally and tried to kill me. 

        That had really bummed out my school spirit.  The only thing that kept me going for the last three years was the fact that there were people cheering me on. 

        Oh, yeah, I ran a blog about my adventures.  People thought it was an azing work of fiction (my Wincest fics, those were fiction.  I hoped) but it was all, one-hundred percent true.  Except for the fact that I had a dog with me.  It was actually a small hell-hound that I had soon figured out to be either half-hound and half-actual dog, or a puppy.  I was hoping for the former, because then he wouldn't grow to be as big. 

        His name was Scott. 

        Where was I?  Oh, yeah, running for my life.  This time, from a rather large man, who, upon closer inspection (not that I wanted too close) looked to be a cyclops.  I mean, if his one eye hand anything to say about his species.  I didn't want to be racist or anything, especially if he potentially wanted to kill me. Maybe he'd be gentle if I was nice. 

        I had been running down the street, annoying more than a few pedestrians, before sharply turning down an alleyway.  I knew where I was, and the shop on one side always kept it's back door open for the homeless kids.  They usually gave away any food that the shop couldn't legally sell, but big ugly behind me didn't know about it, hopefully.  If I could just get a moment to write something, I'd be able to get away, but despite his formidable size, the cyclops was pretty speedy.  One could almost wonder if his name was Gonzales. 

        Ducking into the cafe, I hoped the monster woundn't find me, and I dug around in my bag for my pen.  Usually, it was a breeze to find, the golden object sitting on top, but I knew that I had recently dropped it.  It must still not have reappeared.  Great, just what I needed to start off the day.  I still hadn't had breakfast.  Wistfully, I eyed the muffins set back here for the less fortunate, but instinct told me to run. 

        Just as I turned away from the door and made my way out the front of the shop, I heard a loud crash, like a wrecking ball.  Deciding I didn't want to be next, I took off once more.  When I was already halfway down the street, I heard another loud crash, this one the sound of shattering glass.  A glance behind me said that it was from the coffee shop and that the one-eyed creature had yet to see me. 

        Praying to any god who was listening, I reached into my bag once again.  This time, I felt the cool metal of the pen and pulled it out, and uncapped it.  Finally, I could get this monster out of my hair and I could go on with my day.  Well, that is only if the police didn't try to arrest me again.


	2. Enter Stage Right

        In hindsight, my method of killing monsters isn't very effective.  I mean, it requires writing, and when running for my life, there are not a lot of things to write on.  This usually means that I have golden ink all over my arm, and let me tell you, it has never been easy to remove.  Especially since it's more like paint than like ink. 

        Regardless, with the cyclops chasing after me, I had to keep making sharp turns so that he didn't catch up as I tried to write myself home.  That sounded funny. 

        Whatever I write with the golden ink will become reality.  That was a huge responsibility to give a thirteen year old girl, and I learned that the hard way.  There was a reason I was kicked out of my home.  Well, two reasons.  One of them was because I didn't want to harm my mother in any way at all, especially when she was expecting, so I have a little brother or sister I've never met. 

        I cursed.  I had started to write with the wrong ink.  I pressed a small button on the side of my pen with my nail, and a slight light leaked out of it.  That meant that the ink was changing.  I usually used this pen for my everyday writing too, so I had to make sure I wasn't maling up stories in my golden ink.  Especially not the Supernatural ones.

        Shaking, I decided to cut through another alleyway that was too small for the monster chasing me, and after I knew he had went around, I took off the way I came, trying to find a place to write.  It wasn't easy to write a story and run for your life at the same time.

        I knew that the cyclops probably had some way of tracking me, so I hurridly ran up a fire escape to sit on the roof.  Hopefully, there would be a delay, and he wouldn't catch up quickly.  I flopped down into the gravel and pressed the tip of my pen into my arm.  It only stung a little bit.

        {As [y/n] sat quivering on the roof, she hoped for a savoir from the dreaded beast.  She had barely escaped last time, and due to restrictions, she couldn't request that the monster just vanish.  She had used that the first time, and she couldn't ask for the same thing twice.  This time, she asked for a her-}

        The building shook and I rushed from the edge to the center of the roof, trying to finish my sentence.  It had to sound like an actual story with thought in it, not just a demand.  And I've never tried it on actual paper before, I'll have to try that out when there's not huge monsters vying for my life.

        {She asked for a hero, strong and kind, to rescue the poor damsel.}

        I've never considered myself the damsel in distress.  I was pretty resilient, and thankfully I healed fast, even if I was terrible with first aid, but I knew when to admit if I needed help, but right now, I was going to be cornered by the cyclops, and needed someone who knew what they were doing. 

        As it was too large for the fire escape, the monster opted to climb up the face up the building, and he did so with ease.  That scared me a little and I hoped that my strong and kind hero would hurry the heck up already.  I didn't remember much of a delay when I used the pen before.  Then again, I've never asked for a person before. 

        The cyclops peeked his head up and smiled.  I wished that he wouldn't.  He proceeded to reach a hand up and though the gravel did give somewhat of challenge to him, it didn't slow him for long.  I stood to face him.  Maybe the pen couldn't summon a person and I would just have to face my death like a man.  That wouldn't be too bad, considering I had been avoiding dying for three years now.  I was probably long over due for a visit with death.

        Before the monster had fully climbed up, I saw a black blur dart from above me and, if I wasn't crazy, dropped a boy right on top of the monster, the tip of his sword stabbed deep within the cyclops's single eye.  I winced.  That looked really painful.  The boy yanked his weapon out and jumped off of the monster just as it started to fall backwards.

        He looked over his shoulder and straight into my wide eyes. I had only met one other person who had done something like that, and he had took off running before I could ask any questions. This one seemed to be willing to stick around through. He walked over to me and held out his hand.

        "Hey, your dad sent me. I'm Percy Jackson."


	3. And I'm a Hellhound's Mom...Oh

        "You were sent by my dad? Right." Even if I knew he was crazy, I couldn't help but glance at the pen in my hand. Maybe Dad was the one who was listening?

        "I'm serious. He appeared in my frontroom - completely destroying my mom's favorite rug, by the way, and claimed that his 'beloved [y/n]' was in danger. He said that my pegasus was on the roof waiting to take me to her, and, lo and behold, he was actually right."

        "Okay, so why you?" I capped my pen and shoved it in my messenger bag, looking around to see if there was anywhere for Scott to shadow-travel to.

        "I have been asking myself the same question for a while now."  He pulled out a cheap pen's lid and touched it to the tip of his sword, shrinking it to the size and shape of a 99¢ ballpoint pen.  Cute.  I went over to the edge of the building, nearest to the water tower on the adjacent building's roof, and whistled. 

        I really wasn't sure how long the effects of my pen had, but when I found Scott abandoned in a cardboard box about a year and a half ago, I had given myself the ability to whistle and it's stayed with me ever since. It was helpful to call my friend to me.

        Within seconds of my high-pitched note, Scott came lumbering out of the shadows beneath the water tower and bounded towards me. He leapt off the taller building and onto the roof I was on, thankfully remembering that I didn't like being tackled by him all the time. He landed beside me, but he still stubbornly insisted on drenching my pants in saliva when he saw me each time. He really liked to lick.

        "You have a hellhound puppy?" Percy wandered closer to me, curious about the docile black and brown spotted canine. Scott wagged his tail happily, loving the attention from a new person. Percy held his hand out for Scott to sniff before the dog tackled him to the graveled roof.

        "I don't know. I've had him for over a year, and he hasn't grown much. Oh, and he's really friendly. Say hi to Scott." I made sure that my bag was clipped shut, since the last time that I didn't check before shadow traveling with Scott, my possessions ended up scattered all over Midtown.

        "Yeah," Percy said. "I can see that." When I looked up at him, I started to giggle. Because of Scott's insistent licking, Percy's hair was sticking up to the left in a sort of curve. I silently wished him luck in getting the smell out. It would take at least a dozen washes. "Wow, I wonder what Chiron will think about him?"

        My eyebrows scrunched together. "Chiron? Like, the hero trainer?" I had an uneasy feeling about Percy then. Why would my dad send him to me? I know that he gave me the pen, but Apollo wasn't winning any parent if the year awards anytime soon. 

        "Yeah, that Chiron.  He's kind of in charge at Camp Half-Blood."  I gave him a look.  I didn't like the sound of this 'camp.'  How was I to trust Percy?  Did my dad actually send him?  I backed away slowly, thinking about how I could ditch him.  Silently, I once more cursed my dad's gift.  It was awesome, but it wasn't a sword like Percy had.  The sword was practical against the beasts that came across me, a pen that had specific regulations wasn't as much, especially since writing took time.

        "What's Camp Half-Blood?"

        "It's a safe place, I promise you.  It's what saved me a few years ago."  I debated listening to the black-haired boy.  I didn't know a thing about him save for his name and that his sword had a pen form, but was that enough to trust him with my life?

        "Who are you, Percy?  Why should I trust you?  How do I know you're not another monster in disguise trying to kill me?"

        His green eyes met my own.  "I'm just like you, [y/n]. I'm a demigod, and we need to stick together. Being alone is dangerous for people like us, and the older you are, the more trouble is attracted to you. How old are you, [y/n]? Older than twelve that's for sure, and that's when it starts."

        "I'm sixteen." His eyes went wide.

        "And you've never been approached by another demigod before?" I shook my head. "Come on. I'll take you to camp, Chiron will definitely want to meet you, [y/n]." He kept saying my name like I was a scared lost child. I suppose that's what I was.

        "..Alright.  I'm choosing to trust you, but we're riding Scott.  He should be strong enough to carry us both."  His size could be ranked somewhere between a Great Dane and a horse.  He was fine when I rode him, and he's fine to shadow travel twice a day if I give him lots of water afterwards and almost an entire package of bacon-flavored Carry Outs.  They're his favorites.  "He's really smart, just tell him where to go.  He wanders around when I'm not with him, so he knows New York pretty well, I know.  I'm not sure about any place outside save for maybe New Jersey, but that's where I rescued him after a wrong turn in the sewers, so he's not to keen on going there."

        Percy nodded, and went over to where Scott was laying down and enjoying his snacks.  He knelt to talk to him while I took a deep breath.  Trusting Percy could potentially be the work mistake I ever make, or the best decision possible.  I was desperately hoping it was the latter.


End file.
